


Spin The Bottle

by sycophants



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: (don’t worry batman none of these kids get drunk), M/M, Spin the Bottle, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sycophants/pseuds/sycophants
Summary: Batman probably makes him wear poison-laced chapstick.Young Justice plays Spin the Bottle.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Comments: 10
Kudos: 276





	Spin The Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks familiar to you, that is probably because it is: I tried to move this over from an old account and accidentally broke something instead (rip). So, I’ve taken the opportunity to revisit these kids and give this a bit of a fresh edit.

It’s just after eleven o’clock when the girls muscle their way back into the mansion (Young Justice’s current and temporary hide-out), with a couple cases of cheap beer and a proposition that booms and echoes through the high ceilings of the foyer. “Listen up, boys! Cissie and I want to play a game.”

It takes a few minutes to explain the rules of _Spin the Bottle_ to Kon, a game which he is an immediate fan of. He suspects he might be immune to the effects of alcohol, but it’s not something he’s about to let get in the way of his chances to lock lips with a couple of blonde babes. This is the kind of thing real teenagers who weren’t created in labs did. Awkwardly explore their sexuality with friends under the guise of a game.

Unfortunately, the girls are only game if _everyone’s_ game.

Which means Kon needs to convince Boy Buzzkill to play.

Great.

Should be easy as kryptonite.

-

“Rob. Al. Li’l buddy. Please. Don’t make me beg.” Kon considers it for a moment, then corrects himself. “I’ll beg.”

“Look, kid, if you want to kiss me so bad-“

“I - what?” Kon blinks at his friend. “I don’t want to kiss _you_.”

“Bart, then?” Robin looks smug. He’s standing in front of Kon, arms crossed, with that self-satisfied smirk on his face that Kon has burned into his brain since it’s almost the only part of his pal’s face he’s ever allowed to look at. And, sure, Rob’s supposed to be a genius (not that Kon would ever allow him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud), but Kon’s beginning to wonder if he smacked himself in the head falling off one of those Gotham rooftops he’s so fond of.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kon asks, reaching out to part and un-part Rob’s hair, checking for signs of injury. Rob ducks away from him.

“You know what? It’s my fault. I forgot you weren’t very good with math.”

Kon bites back the first response that come to mind, momentarily caught off guard by his own maturity. “Look, I get it, we’ve all had a long weekend and I’m a bit worried you might have a head injury of some kind - so maybe you should skip the booze, actually - but I need you to act like a _human be-_ “

“-says the clone.” Robin’s smirk becomes self-satisfied…ier, and Kon’s frustration is bordering on homicidal. He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a long, suffering breath and reminds himself that Batman is terrifying and would probably take it pretty personal if he hurt one of his bird boys.

When Kon finally summons all the patience within him and opens his mouth to speak, Rob interrupts him again: “I don’t want to kiss Bart.”

“Well, thanks for clearing that up, pal. I’d been meaning to ask. I was so sure he was your type.” Kon rolls his eyes, the circular nature of this conversation wearing him down.

“You. Me. _Bart._ ” Rob takes a step towards him, counting off on his fingers. “There’s three of us.”

“Uh huh.” Kon grumbles.

“There are only two of them.”

“Uh huh.”

“Odds are, one of us is going to end up kissing Bart.”

Kon sighs and crosses the short distance left between them to grab hold of Rob’s shoulders and stare deep into the unblinking white lenses of his friend’s mask - hoping and praying that there’s a real teenage boy somewhere behind them that he can reason with.

“Spin the Bottle isn’t about who we don’t want to kiss, Al. It’s about plausible deniability! It’s the one chance we have to kiss the girl of our dreams and not have to worry about rejection or who-has-feelings-for-who. Don’t you ever worry that you’re wasting your youth? Yes, maybe you have to kiss a couple Barts. Maybe that’s the price we all have to pay to play a little tonsil hockey with a top tier babe like Cissie. Is it not worth it? Is it not worth it to at least try?”

“That’s your pitch?”

Kon deflates.

“Say yes and I’ll let you have total remote control for the rest of the weekend.”

“On _Wendy The Werewolf Stalker_ night?”

Kon’s soul hurts. “Rob, as heroes, sometimes we must make sacrifices.”

-

Predictably, Rob’s not drinking (and after the effort it took to drag him into playing this game, Kon washes his hands clean from responsibility - if Rob wants to be a wet blanket for the rest of his life, so be it) and the girls have been nursing their first, and likely only, drinks of the night since Cassie flicked the bottle caps off, struggling not to pull a sour face any time one of them braves a sip. Bart, however, has already made his way through a case himself, experimentally chugging the beer down in a race against is metabolism. Like Kon, the alcohol has absolutely no effect on him. The only result of his experiments is three round-trips to the bathroom before they can even get the game started.

Eager to play, Kon picks up one of Bart’s empties and sets it on the floor as his teammates finally settle into place around him. Cassie sits next to Kon and hands him another beer, which he accepts, not wanting to look like a total square.

That’s Rob’s job, after all. It’s the weekend and the guy’s wearing a dress shirt, tucked in like an old man. And he’s still got that fucking mask on.

Kon shakes any thought of Rob from his head and let’s Cassie open his beer for him. “Alright, let’s party.”

The girls clink their bottles together. Cissie whistles. Kon takes a spin.

_Hot Blonde. Hot Blonde. Hot Blonde. Hot-_

Bart.

“Well, this game’s already getting interesting.” Cassie snorts and bumps her shoulders against his.

Kon refuses to look at Rob.

Bart, however, perks up and puckers up, seemingly unconcerned with having to swap spit with Kon. Sure, he’s not one of the girls (and he’s definitely not Cissie), but there are worse people than Bart for Kon to be stuck with. Heck, the bottle could have landed on Rob. Batman probably makes him wear poison-laced chapstick just as a precaution. Honestly, maybe it’s for the best that he has the sexual curiosity of a robot.

So, not wanting to give Rob anything else to be smug about, Kon channels all his teenage lust into courage and leans over to plant a quick kiss on Bart’s lips. It’s short and it scratches a bit (with the way Bart talks, his lips are always dry), but the girls clap and giggle and Kon feels victorious.

“Who’s next?” Bart says, spinning the bottle so quickly it hovers off the ground.

Kon leans back to watch his friends play. After Bart practically teleports across the circle to kiss Cissie (and it’s a real kiss, a good one, with tongue and all the sloppy sounds that Kon has dreamt of for himself) it’s Cissie’s turn. Kon distracts himself by grabbing another beer, doing his best not to look too pathetically hopeful. He let’s his eyes stealthily wander over to Rob, who is playing with some kind of Bat Gadget, oblivious to the game around him. Kon wonders how he does it. If he wasn’t so unironically uncool, Kon would think that maybe he was bluffing, too. For some inexplicable reason, girls were into Rob’s whole neurotic-and-mysterious thing. Maybe it was the mask, putting all that focus on his sharp jawline and all that floppy, dark hair girls went wild for. A mask hides the fact that he probably hasn’t slept in a month.

If Kon had to bet money on it, he figures Rob’s disinterest is the result of some kind of “Bats and the Bees” chat with the Big Guy in Black. If Kon had ever had to have the sex talk with Batman, he might put off any interest in girls for another lifetime, too.

“Cassie!” Everyone laughs and Kon’s attention returns to the game in time to see both girls pulling apart from each other, Cissie wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You overdid it on the lipgloss.”

“I don’t hear anyone else complaining!” Cassie and Cissie double over on top of each other laughing.

Honestly? This game’s not as much fun as Kon had imagined it would be.

Cassie spins the bottle and it lands on Bart (and it’s another kiss, with _tongue_ , Kon cannot believe Bart’s luck). Finally, it’s Rob’s turn to spin and Kon isn’t even surprised anymore when the bottle lands on Cissie. Round one and everyone but Kon has kissed her. Even _Cassie_. Rob has the nerve to not even look excited about it. When they kiss, it’s short and sweet and might as well be as sexual as Kon’s kiss with Bart.

Kon could kill him.

By the end of their peck on the lips, it’s Kon’s turn again. Whatever enthusiasm he had coming into the game is now about as bitter as the warm beer in his hands. Maybe the bottle would land on Cissie, sure, _maybe_ , but at this point Kon’s accepted that luck’s not on his side. So, he spins the bottle, wondering whether Cassie has any lipgloss to spare for Bart’s dry lips when it inevitably spins his way.

Except, it’s so much worse than Bart.

It’s so, so much worse. 

“Holy surprise, Batboy.” Kon spits out. Another wave of laughter erupts from the girls and Bart and somehow Rob still has that stupid look on his face like nothing phases him.

His smug, stupid mouth.

That Kon was going to have to kiss.

“We could always call it a night.” Rob says, with his stupid, condescending voice; like he can read Kon’s mind.

Of course Kon could call it a night, that’s exactly what Rob wants him to do, so he can rush back to his computer and his toys and his little Bat-Diaries, full of Bat-Coded Bat-Secrets. Or whatever other Very Important thing it is that Rob does.

Kon did not give up _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_ for this.

Without thinking, Kon pushes himself up off the ground and marches across the circle towards Rob, grabs him by the collar of his stupid, expensive shirt and yanks him up into a kiss so hard his shirt comes untucked. It’s an awkward angle (Rob’s hands reach up to twist in Kon’s leather jacket for balance - maybe to keep his shirt from ripping apart - unintentionally pulling them closer together), and the kiss is clumsy and rough. When Rob tries to close his mouth, he sucks Kon’s bottom lip between his teeth with a slick, wet sound. Rob’s lips are softer than Bart’s, and Kon bites them, just because he can.

Then it’s over.

Kon untangles Rob’s hands from his jacket, letting Rob drop gracelessly to the floor, and returns to his own spot in the circle. When he looks up, Rob looks stunned (or as stunned as is possible to look while still wearing a mask), his lips bright red against his pale, daylight-deprived skin. Kon sits back, feeling a little better for having wiped the smirk off his face.

It’s enough to get him through the next round. Or, at least, it is until his next spin-

“No offence, Bart, but this game blows.”

-

Much later, after the girls have fallen asleep and Bart’s worn himself out running to-and-from the bathroom to pee, Rob knocks at the door of the room Kon’s claimed for himself (and Kon knows it’s him, knows his sleeping schedule - or lack of it). It’s so late it’s early and Kon’s still in a bad mood.

“Get lost, Al.”

“Open up, or you won’t get your present.”

Kon narrows his eyes. Aside from a time machine (and if anyone could build one, he’s sure Rob could), there isn’t anything Rob could offer Kon that would make this miserable weekend any better.

He exhales into a pillow and stretches his Tactile Telekinesis™ from the bed (which he is totally not sulking in), across the floor and up to twist the doorknob so that the door swings open. Rob stands there, framed in the doorway, the hall light casting a dark shadow across his face. So, when he steps closer, Kon almost sits up in surprise: Rob’s actually ditched the mask. It’s not like he sleeps in the thing (anymore), but Rob’s actual face (his normal human, regrettably handsome, acne-free face) never ceases to catch Kon by surprise.

“Don’t get the wrong idea - as nice as it is to see your baby blues, Rob, it’s not much of a present.”

The slightest of smiles stretches its way across Rob’s face. He tosses something on the bed in front of Kon. “Want to hang out?”

Kon doesn’t care that the sun’s about to come up. He picks up the present. “Is this what I think it is?”

“It’s not a dirty movie, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t tease me, Boy Wonder. Seriously. Did you record _Wendy the Werewolf Stalker_?”

"Do you want to watch it or what?" Rob kicks at Kon’s legs, not-so-subtly hinting at him to make room.

Before Rob can see it coming, Kon bounces up so fast he’s practically flying and grabs hold of Rob just to tug him back down with him. He grins when Rob lets out a strangled sound of surprise and pins him to the bed by the wrists to keep him from struggling free as Kon uses his Tactile Telekineses™ to set up the VCR on the other side of the room.

With his mask off, it’s a lot easier to appreciate the stunned expression on his face.

“Rob, old chum, if I hadn’t already, I’d kiss you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/reigenforyou).


End file.
